Nature's Rage
by Deana
Summary: Written with MaverickLover2. Bart and Bret get caught in a blizzard, and nature tries its hardest to ensure that they don't survive.
1. Chapter 1

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 **Nature's Rage  
** A Maverick story by Deana and MaverickLover2  
Takes place after Deana's story, 'No Longer the Pray', which was a tag to the episode 'Prey of the Cat'.

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"We should've taken a train!" Bart exclaimed, holding his hat tightly to his head, eyes closed and lowered to the snow that blew into his face.

"You don't hear me arguing, do you?" his brother asked as they both tried to get through the knee-deep white stuff. It wasn't easy, with the constantly gusting wind blowing it in all directions and the rapidly accumulating drifts hindering their every move.

They thought that winter had ended, but an unexpected spring storm took the Maverick brothers completely by surprise; neither of them had adequate coats, and were frozen solid. Since their only choices were push forward or let the horses stand still and die, they chose to keep going.

Bart was shivering like he'd never shivered before. His clothes were soaked, but thankfully, they both always carried gloves in their saddlebags. The biting wind did nothing to hinder the shivering, only make it worse.

Suddenly, Bret's horse stumbled in the rough terrain and almost deposited his rider into a snow bank.

Bart didn't even see it happen, his gloved hand shielding his eyes.

Bret gave his brother a sheepish look, before realizing that he hadn't seen.

Bart suddenly sighed. "Are we there yet?" he shouted over the wind.

"Can't tell," Bret shouted back. "Too much snow!"

Bart sighed again. His recently broken right leg* was throbbing thanks to the cold, and he shifted with a wince. There was no clear path ahead and neither horse was sure of the way.

Bret saw his brother wince, and sighed himself. Bart had been through hell lately, and didn't need this now. That's when instinct took over and Bret offered, "Keep heading east. Maybe we can outrun this weather!"

Bart chuckled, but the cold wind made him cough. "You can tell which way is east?"

"No, but it _sounded_ good!" Bret answered. "Let's just keep going!"

Bart laughed again. What else could he do? They were probably going to freeze to death out here anyway. Maybe he would've been better off hanging in Woodstone* after all…

They struggled on for a while until the cold permeated every bone in their bodies, and it became clear that they weren't going to get much further; Bart's eyes kept drooping closed, and he was having a hard time staying on his horse.

Bret watched his brother carefully and realized they needed to find shelter in a hurry.

Bart was starting to feel disoriented, and it had nothing to do with not being sure of the direction that they were heading in. "Bret," he called, almost too cold to talk. "We need to s-stop."

Bret shielded his eyes, looking at the mountains that they were nearing. He figured out where there were, and was relieved. "There are caves ahead."

Bart's head drooped. "Thank God," he mumbled, shivering like he was in the middle of an earthquake.

Bret urged his horse ahead, into the lead. Maybe he could help clear a path for his brother. That's why his back was turned when Bart finally couldn't hold on any longer and slipped off his horse into the snow.

Bret didn't even hear his brother fall. He turned to look behind him, and saw neither his brother nor his horse. "Bart!" he exclaimed, quickly turning around. He headed back and found Bart struggling to get up, his horse standing beside him.

Any part of Bart's body that was still dry was dry no longer, and his body temperature was starting to drop dangerously low.

Bret's legs were numb as he tried to get down from his own horse, and he ended up on his knees in the snow, not very far from Bart's state himself. Bret had always been hardier than Bart in the winter cold, and he managed to reach out and grab his brother, trying to pull him up.

Bart could do nothing but try to hang onto his brother's arm, his legs too cold to move.

"Stand up!" Bret exclaimed, as he pulled on his brother. "There are caves! We're almost there!"

Bart tried to lock his frozen knees. He was so cold that his whole body was trembling, threatening to send him back to the snowy ground.

Bret grabbed the reins of both horses and wrapped an arm around his brother's back, trying to lead him to the caves; he doubted that he'd be able to get Bart mounted again in his state. With one final desperate act he finally got Bart to stumble forward several steps before he dropped to the ground just inside the mouth of the first cave that they came across.

Bret accidentally landed on top of Bart and tried to quickly roll off him. Somehow, he managed to crawl forward and grab his brother's arms, dragging him further inside, away from the numbingly cold wind.

Bret pulled on the horses' reins to get them inside the cave too, resisting the urge to collapse onto his back and rest. He was numb and tired, but a glance at Bart showed him that his brother had made no effort to move on his own, laying limply where Bret had dragged him. He had to get a fire started if they had any chance of survival.

Bret checked his coat pocket; no matches. He crawled over to Bart and checked his brother's pockets, trying to rouse him at the same time. "Bart," he said, shaking him. "Don't go to sleep or you might not wake up!"

Bart stirred groggily and mumbled, "Not yet, pappy."

Bret shook him again. "Bart! Stay awake!"

Bart said nothing else.

Finally Bret found what he was looking for in Bart's inside coat pocket: matches! He sighed with relief, before shaking his brother again and getting a mumble out of him. Glad that Bart wasn't unconscious—though he obviously wasn't far from it—Bret managed to stand and go through his saddlebags with numb fingers, pulling out the few pieces of dry firewood that he always carried in case he got caught in the rain. They wouldn't last very long, but it was enough to get a fire started. Maybe he could find something else to burn further back in the cave.

Quickly, Bret dropped the sticks near the mouth of the cave and struck a match, sighing in relief when the wood caught flame. He wanted to check on Bart, but knew if he didn't find more fuel for the fire quickly it wouldn't do them any good; what they both needed was warmth, as soon as possible.

Bret got to his feet and headed further into the cave, adrenaline lending him the strength to keep moving. He found more sticks and leaves blown in from the wind before the snow had begun to fall, and he brought some back, dropping it into the fire and watching it burn.

Taking a deep breath, he turned and quickly headed back to his brother.

Bart hadn't moved since being dragged inside and Bret knew that he had to get his brother closer to the fire. Steeling himself for the effort, he did his best to drag Bart that few feet, but it took all the willpower that Bret had. His strength drained, he finally allowed himself to drop to his own knees. He wasn't sure which was worse: the cold or the exhaustion.

Bart still didn't move, eyes closed.

"Bart," Bret tiredly said. He laid down himself, grabbing his brother's arm and shaking it. "Wake up."

But Bart didn't react, and Bret had no time to do anything else before darkness claimed him too.

TBC

*'Prey of the Cat', season 2, episode 12.


	2. Chapter 2

It wasn't long before Bret became aware of his surroundings again. He was slightly warmer than before but wanted nothing more than sleep…and he knew that he mustn't, or both he and Bart would be lost.

 _Bart!_ Bret turned his head to see his brother lying in the same position, having not moved at all. A thrill of fear filled Bret and he reached over to feel the pulse in Bart's neck. It was beating, but slowly. Bart's skin was still very cold despite the fire, and Bret realized that they were both still wearing their soaked clothes. How could the fire raise their body temperatures if they were still wet in the freezing cold? The fire was small, and much of the heat was escaping out the mouth of the cave, making it inadequate considering their condition.

Then it came to him, and he didn't know why he hadn't thought of it before. They both carried gambling clothes in their saddlebags. Quickly, Bret found his, warm and dry, right where he'd put them. The thought of undressing in the cold air was not pleasant, but it was better than the alternative of remaining wet. He stumbled in the semi-light of the small fire as he moved deeper into the cave to change. He stripped and thanked God that there was no one around to watch him fumble in the cold. He changed as fast as he could, wanting to see to Bart, but knowing that if he changed his brother's clothes while _he_ was still wet, he'd only get Bart's dry clothes wet too.

Quickly, Bret rushed back to his brother and checked his pulse again, finding it still beating slowly. He fished Bart's clothes out of his brother's saddlebags and brought them over to him. "Bart?" he called, shaking his brother's arm. "It would be a lot easier if you were awake to help me with this."

But Bart didn't react.

Bret sighed and quickly pulled Bart upright, leaning his brother sideways against his chest while he pulled the sopping-wet sleeve of Bart's buckskin jacket off one arm. Once that was accomplished, he pulled the jacket around his brother's back and then between Bart and himself so he could pull it off his other arm. The jacket was so wet that it was heavy, and Bret dropped it on the ground inside out, to avoid getting it dirty.

With the jacket off, Bret found his brother's shirt to be even colder than his jacket was; Bart's lowered body temperature combined with the icy jacket served to insulate the cold inside.

Bret sighed and held onto his brother for a minute, his own arms still cold and aching. Soaking wet clothes and an unconscious man do not an easy task make, but Bret had needed to do this for Bart before, and as he struggled with getting his brother's wet shirt off next, he desperately hoped that this would be the _last_ time that Bart would ever need this kind of help.

Boots were another matter entirely. He wadded up the wet shirt to lay Bart's head on and practically crawled to his brother's feet. Bret struggled with each boot but finally got them off, which allowed him to remove Bart's pants. Then he had to do everything in reverse to get the dry pants back on.

Once Bret was done changing his brother's clothes, he struggled to get up and go back to the horses, taking their bedrolls off. They were soaked too, and he threw them both to the ground, upset. The cave was still very cold despite the fire, as it had to be close to the mouth of the cave to avoid filling the small area with smoke. Sighing, Bret unrolled the bedrolls and laid out the blankets to dry.

Bart had shown no signs of consciousness through the whole clothes-changing episode and Bret knew that something had to be done _fast_. With no dry blankets to wrap Bart in, there was only one thing left to do. With difficulty—as he was still half-frozen himself—he put their canteens near the fire, removed the saddles from the horses and brought the animals over to where his brother lay, forcing Bart's horse to lie down. Once it cooperated, Bret shifted Bart against it before forcing his own horse to do the same. He then laid down himself in between them and wrapped his arms around his brother, keeping Bart between his horse and himself in an attempt to share body heat...if he and the horses had any to give.

Bret rested his chin on Bart's head, and could feel his brother's breath on his throat. It was reassuring. "You better wake up soon, brother Bart," he said. "It's getting boring in here."

Bret wasn't sure how long they lay like that, but he eventually began to feel warmer and hoped that Bart was feeling the same.

Unconsciousness kept its grip on Bart, but his breathing was steady. Bret often tried to wake his brother and constantly checked his pulse, finding it still weak as his body warmed up too slowly. The cave grew darker as time passed and Bret started to doze off again, but woke abruptly at the sound of a soft groan. "Bart?" he exclaimed.

Bart gave no reply, but now that he was awake, he started to shiver again.

Bret automatically tightened the grip around his brother. "Bart," he said. "Wake up, you've been out cold long enough!" _Out cold_ , he thought. _Oh, the irony._

Another groan followed and the shivering continued. Bart felt a little 'warmer' to the touch but was still, for the most part, unresponsive.

Bret sighed and simply held onto his brother, knowing that it was a good sign, at least, that Bart was conscious now, however slightly. Bret felt his stomach growl, looking for something— _anything_ —to eat. It had been how long since their last meal? He wondered if there was any of the jerky left in his saddlebags, but he didn't want to leave Bart for even just a minute and take away whatever warmth he was providing him. His stomach would have to wait.

That's when Bret suddenly noticed that the fire was almost out. Whether he wanted to turn loose his hold on his brother or not, he was going to have to get up and find something else in the cave to burn.

Bart had made no more noises or movements, but appeared to still be conscious to some degree, as he was still shivering.

"Bart," Bret said. "Can you hear me? I have to get up to find something else for the fire."

Bart didn't react.

Bret shook him. "Bart?"

Bart moved his head slightly, but said nothing.

Bret carefully pulled away from his brother, laying him down with a sigh.

Bart feebly pulled his arms closer to his body, but didn't succeed in wrapping them around himself. He was obviously only barely conscious.

Bret saw that the absence of his body increased his brother's shivering, and he squeezed Bart's arm with a sigh, before stiffly crawling over the horses' legs to see what he could find.

Bret's own shaking increased, and it was hard to walk. Worry for his brother was what helped him get to the back of the cave, where more brush and sticks lay. He gathered a pile and brought it to the fire, dropping it on and watching the flames surge back to life. He saw the drying blankets on the other side of the fire and went to check them. They were still mostly wet, as they were trying to dry in the cold air of the cave, despite their meager fire.

With a sigh, Bret headed back to Bart and laid down between the horses, pulling his brother's shivering body against himself again.

After the manhandling, Bart unexpectedly spoke. "Bret?" he whispered.

Bret was surprised. "Yeah Bart, I'm here. Are you all right?"

But Bart said nothing else.

Despite that, Bret smiled slightly. At least his brother knew that he was there.

Bret lay there for what seemed like hours, drifting in and out of sleep but keeping a tight grip on his brother's body. Sometime during the long night, Bart's shivering lessened, and Bret was relieved that their shared body heat and that of the horses was having an effect. That didn't mean they were out of the woods, however, as he found when he shifted slightly to give the muscles in his arms some relief, and Bart's shivering increased again. The air in the cave was still freezing, as much of the heat from the fire escaped out into the storm, and he tightened the grip around Bart again, wishing that the blankets would dry, but knowing that it was probably impossible in the bitter cold.

Bret had no way of knowing how long the wind and snow would last; blizzards like this one could continue for days. With no food or water, the fuel for fire running dangerously low, and Bart's condition continuing to deteriorate, Bret knew he had to do something, but what? If only there was a way to block the cave opening, to keep the heat in! There was no real way to accomplish that except to put the horses in front of the entrance, but they were both serving a better purpose by lending them their body heat. Bret was glad that neither horse had gotten the notion in its head to stand up, as they were the only things keeping he and Bart alive.

Bret sighed again—he seemed unable to stop doing that—as he realized that there was nothing more he could do. They were out of the storm and had each other, the horses, and the excuse of a fire to try to keep warm, and that seemed to be it. If they didn't survive, it wouldn't be because he hadn't tried everything in his power to prevent it. He wasn't giving up—no indeed—he just couldn't think of anything else, and his eyelids were growing so heavy that he couldn't keep them open anymore.

As Bret fell asleep again, he desperately prayed that he wouldn't wake to find his brother dead in his arms…

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning dawned—maybe. Snow was still falling at an accelerated rate but the wind had died down considerably. It was a change for the better. Maybe the snow would taper off sooner rather than later and they might be able to get out of here…if they were both still alive.

Bret slowly woke, wincing as he moved stiffly. His eyes flew open in shock when he felt the body that he held in his arms, and he quickly raised a frozen hand to feel for his brother's pulse. "Bart?" he said. "Bart, wake up!" The beat that he found under his fingers was still too slow, but it was there.

To Bret, it still felt just as cold in the cave, and he saw why: the fire had gone out while they'd slept. He groaned at the sight and tried to get up, his body not wanting to cooperate. He finally had to push his brother out of his arms to struggle to his knees. There was no movement from Bart as he put his hands on the ground and pushed himself into a standing position. He took a step and almost fell, his legs trying to lock in place from sleeping in one position all night.

One of the horses whinnied and tried to get up; Bret had to sooth the animal back into place on the frozen earth. The horses were just as hungry as he was.

Once he was sure that his legs were firm under himself, he tried to find his way further into the cave. There had to be something to burn back in there somewhere. The further he went the darker it got and it became harder to see. Finally he missed a step in the dark and fell hard, trying to brace himself as he went down. All he succeeded in doing was twisting his right wrist.

Bret winced and sat up, reaching to see what he'd tripped over; to his surprise, it was a small tree branch. Shock and relief flood him like a wave; the only way a tree branch could've ended up in the cave was if someone had taken shelter here before and brought it in. Standing, he grabbed it and headed back to their non-fire, but stopped walking in shock at what he saw: both horses were on their feet, no longer providing Bart with their body heat.

"No no no!" he exclaimed, rushing on still-frozen legs. "What are you doing?" he asked the horses, as if they could actually answer him. He dropped the branch near their fire-that-wasn't and tried to make the horses lie down again.

Bart's cooperated, but Bret's would not have it.

Giving up for a minute, Bret grabbed the branch and stood it upright before forcefully stepping on it sideways to make it snap. Once it was in pieces, he quickly set it aflame before kneeling beside his brother and arranging him better against his horse. He checked Bart's pulse and found it unchanged. Sighing, he stood and went back over to the blankets that were still ice cold and not very dry in the freezing air. Getting an idea, he picked one up and brought it over to his horse. "If you're not gonna keep Bart warm, then you're gonna make _this_ warm," he said, tossing the blanket over the horse.

Now that he was up he finally remembered to check his saddlebags for any leftover jerky. He found a small piece and broke it in half, wanting to keep the rest for his brother. It wasn't much but it was better than anything else he'd had since the snowstorm ambushed them. No steak had ever tasted quite so good.

Bret grabbed one of the canteens and shook it. It still felt like there was solid ice inside, but he heard a little bit of liquid. He took a cup out of his saddlebag and poured the meager amount into it. He did the same with the other canteen before placing the cup nearer the fire: it was much too cold to drink, especially with their body temperatures being so low.

Bret sat beside his brother and heaved a sigh, watching his breath freeze in the air as he shivered. Looking at Bart, he wondered why his brother was in such worse shape than he was...or was he? Bret was exhausted, trying to stay awake, _needing_ to stay awake for Bart's sake. That must be it; Bret knew that if he gave in to collapse, they would both die here.

With another sigh, he grabbed the cup and held it over the fire, warming up the water in it so he could feed it to his brother. The flames were hypnotizing, and it seemed like no time had passed at all before he felt the metal cup growing hot. He sipped the water to check the temperature, before holding the cup over the fire again.

Finally, the water was warm enough—he didn't dare make it hot, knowing that it would shock Bart's system and do more harm than good—and he pulled his brother's upper body into one arm and placed the cup to his lips. "Bart," he said, giving him a shake. "Drink this."

Bart didn't react to the first trickle of water that passed his lips, but he reacted to the second one, his body starting to shiver harder as he woke up a little and swallowed the water.

Bret smiled. "That's my boy. Drink it all."

Bart's eyebrows furrowed as he apparently became aware of pain within his body; not surprising when more than half-frozen, and he drank all of the water, giving a little moan when he was done.

"It's all right, Bart," said Bret, putting the cup down and holding his brother to his chest. "I've got you."

Bart tried to speak, and it was the best thing that Bret ever heard. "What...where...?" he mumbled.

"We're in a cave," Bret said. "You've been out all night."

Bart gave no reply, breathing softly, his temperature still too low to have him fully aware.

Bret grabbed the piece of jerky and jostled his brother again. "Don't go back to sleep, Bart, it's time for breakfast!"

That didn't go over as well as the water. "Not…no," was as much as Bart could manage.

Bret wasn't taking 'no' for an answer and broke off a small piece. He put it inside his brother's mouth and waited for instinct to kick in. The jerky was half chewed, half gummed until it was soft enough to swallow. "That's it, one more," and Bret tried the same thing again. He was met with slightly less resistance the second time, with the same end result. "Good boy. One more?" The procedure was repeated until the jerky was gone.

"Now isn't that better?" Bret asked.

Bart, eyes closed, was too disoriented to figure out how to answer.

Bret jostled his brother again. "Stay awake, Bart, you hear me?"

"Tired," Bart whispered.

Just the sound of that word remind Bret of how tired he was too. "I know, Bart, but it's dangerous to sleep when we're so cold. Try to stay awake, all right?"

"Sure," his brother mumbled.

Bret sighed. 'Sure' never had a definite meaning when Bart said it. "Well, 'sure' isn't good enough, Bart," Bret said, jostling him again.

"Stop it," Bart mumbled.

But Bret did it again. "Nope," he answered. "I'm gonna keep you awake if it's the last thing I do!"

At that, Bart opened his eyes slightly, looking confused. They slipped shut again without him saying a word.

Bret was overjoyed to see Bart open his eyes, if only for a second. He continued to jostle him.

"What you...doing?" Bart said, almost speaking a whole sentence. His voice was weak but annoyed.

"That's it, brother Bart," said Bret. "Get mad! That's a good boy."

Bart's eyes stayed closed and he mumbled something else, but 'baby' was the only word that Bret caught. "Oh, I know you aren't a baby, Bart," he said. "But when you were, I used to rock you all the time, even as young as I was. And you know what? I never dropped you, either."

Bart mumbled something unintelligible.

Bret smiled. "Well, there was that _one_ time..."

Bart didn't react.

"Nah, I'm joshin', I never dropped you...I couldn't. You were too important to me." He paused and looked at his brother, half-frozen in his arms. "You still are," he said, quietly.

At that, Bart suddenly moved his hand, sluggishly shifting it to touch his brother's arm.

Bret smiled and held his brother tighter. "We'll get through this, brother Bart," he said. "Before you know it, we'll be toasty warm, devouring steaks in an expensive hotel, smoking cigars and playing poker."

Bart said nothing.

"We'll get through this," Bret repeated. "You'll see."

At that last statement, Bart emitted a soft groan. Then once again he mumbled, "Sure," and Bret took it as an indication that Bart heard him and understood.

But even so, Bret joked, "You need to come up with a better word than 'sure', brother Bart. It has too many different meanings coming from you."

At that, Bart smiled slightly. "Sure," he said.

Bret laughed, glad to see that his brother was coherent enough to joke. Suddenly, he thought of something from years ago that he'd never forgotten. "Bart, do you remember when we were children? You were still too young to go to school, but Pappy had to go to town one day and couldn't take you with him, so the schoolmarm said that you could stay with the class. Remember when she asked if any of us could count to ten, and you yelled that you could count higher than ten? She was shocked, because you were so young, and said, 'okay, what comes after three?' You yelled, 'four!' Then she asked what comes after six and you said seven...then she asked what came after ten...do you remember your answer?" Bret was laughing.

Bart chuckled, to Bret's relief.

"You yelled, 'a jack'!" Bret said, anyway. "I almost fell off my chair! She was mortified!"

"Pappy laughed," Bart said, in defense of himself.

Bret nodded. "He sure did...the whole town was laughing about it that day...when Pappy came back that night, twenty different people had already told him about it. But here's something you didn't know; pappy was just as proud as he could be that you knew which card came after the ten!"

Bart chuckled again.

Bret suddenly realized how much time had passed while he'd sat there with Bart. He looked at his horse and wondered at the status of the blanket. "I gotta lie you down for a minute, Bart…gonna see if a blanket is dry enough for you."

Bart must've been drifting off again, because he answered, "What?"

Bret propped him against his horse. "I'll be right back." He stood on stiff legs and went over to his stallion, finding with immense relief that his idea had worked; the blanket had dried thanks to its body heat! He took it off and grabbed the other blanket, draping that one over the animal and quickly bringing the dry one back to his brother. "Here you go, Bart!" he said, sitting beside him and draping it over them both. He grabbed his brother and pulled him closer again, overjoyed that they now had a barrier against the freezing air in the cave. With a sigh, he shook his head, never thinking that he could be so happy over something as trivial as a blanket…

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

Time passed so slowly that minutes seemed like days. The routine was always the same; sleep, try to find more fuel for the ever-diminishing fire, heat up and drink a little more of the slowly defrosting water, reminisce about their childhood and the predicaments they'd gotten into. Sometimes Bart was more responsive than others. Just as Bret would think that his brother was improving, the intense shivering and shaking would start all over again. The only thing that kept Bret from giving up was the realization that his surrender would mean the same fate for both of them.

At the moment, Bret was holding his brother tightly as he shivered. The wind had changed direction and was now blowing into the cave, making it even colder inside. Their saving grace was the second blanket that Bret's horse had managed to dry with its body heat. It wasn't much but was better than nothing; at least it was keeping them alive.

But Bret didn't know how much longer they could go on like this, especially Bart. As if his brother had read his mind, Bart suddenly spoke.

"Bret?"

"Yeah, Bart?" It was hard to even speak, they were so cold.

Bart tried to say something else, but he hesitated, his lowered body temperature confusing his mind; for a moment, he wasn't sure where they were, actually thinking that they were children, in the last old story that Bret had just told him.

"Yeah, Bart?" Bret repeated, trying to force his brother to talk to him.

"I'm...so... _cold_ ," was all that Bart could say.

Bret sighed. "I know, Bart. It'll be warmer soon." _If the wind ever stops!_ he thought.

"When?" Bart shivered, almost reading his mind.

"I wish I knew," Bret said. He looked over at the cave entrance and saw that the wind was still blowing around.

"Can't...take this...anymore," Bart said. The long hours of shivering was causing deep aching in his muscles, as if the cold wasn't bad enough.

"I know," Bret said. "It has to change soon...it _has_ to."

Almost an hour later, it finally did. The wind not only changed direction again—away from the cave—but its speed lessened too; Bret could see that the falling snow's intensity had greatly diminished. It looked like the storm was finally winding down, and Bret couldn't have been more relieved.

Bart was out again; whether asleep or unconscious, Bret wasn't sure. Despite the instinct to wake his brother up, Bret didn't have the heart to do it and make Bart suffer in the unbearable cold, so he simply held onto him, keeping the blankets over his brother's head with an open space for him to breathe through.

They stayed that way for hours, with Bret rocking them back and forth like a mother with a newborn. Maverick stubbornness was the only thing keeping them alive right now. All Bret could think of through his own muddled mind was how he used to do this every day with Bart when he was a baby, singing him the lullabies that their mother had taught him…childishly off-key and with the wrong words when he forgot—he used to make up his own words sometimes—but not a day passed that he didn't hold his baby brother.

Oh, but there _was_ a time: Bret remembered a day that he was sick, asking to hold the baby and mama had said no. He'd burst out crying, but when mama said that Bart would catch it, Bret had instantly stopped crying and wouldn't go anywhere near the baby until mama had said that it was safe. Staying away from baby Bart broke little Bret's heart, but he'd been afraid that he could die if he got sick. The next thing that Bret thought of was baby Bart's first word...it had been his name: Bret. He'd been thrilled. It had sounded more like 'Bwet', but it didn't matter; it was still his name.

It was awful when mama died. Bret was little more than a baby himself, and now he had a baby brother that needed him even more.

Little Bart was too young to understand what had happened, and kept asking where mama went and when she would be home. Bret didn't understand _why_ it had to happen to _their_ mama, and when Bart had finally realized that he would never see mama again, he had been inconsolable.

Bret would never forget how their pappy had looked that day: like a broken man. His grief and Bret's were bad enough; pappy didn't know how to handle Bart's too. Bret had gone over and pulled Bart out of their pappy's lap, and rocked him for literally the rest of the night. Bart eventually fell asleep on him, and that's how they'd stayed until well into the next morning.

It had all happened so long ago, but Bret remembered it clearly as he continued to rock them.

"Bret?"

Bart's sudden voice made Bret jump, breaking his sad reverie. "Bart?" he answered.

"Where are we?"

Bret hesitated. He'd been so deep in thought that he almost felt like he was living his memories in the present. He'd almost said 'Texas'. "We're in a cave, Bart, in the middle of a—" he looked towards the mouth of the cavern and saw that the snow had stopped. "—blizzard."

"Are we…alive?" Bart asked.

Bret was so shocked that the snow had stopped that it took him a moment to answer. "Yes," he said. "We are."

"How long…have we…been here?" Bart whispered, shivering.

Bret wasn't even sure. It was daytime when they'd arrived, and it was nearly dark now...but wait, it'd been dark before, too..."A day and a half, I think," he told him.

"Can we get out?"

"Not yet," Bret answered. "We'd never make it through the cold in the shape we're in…especially you." He suddenly noticed that he was still rocking Bart, and his brother wasn't protesting one bit.

"I'm…fine."

Bret barked out a short laugh. "No you're not. Neither of us are."

"I can't…I can't…my feet. Can't feel them," Bart said next, sounding like he was drifting off again.

"I know what you mean," Bret said, with a sigh.

"Or my fingers," Bart added.

Bret reached up with one numb hand and moved the blanket a little so he could see inside. "Keep them between our bodies," he told him.

Bret felt Bart shift a little before settling again with a groan.

"I can hardly move," Bart told him next.

"Just rest," Bret replied. Bart had never been a complainer when things were serious...it showed how much his lowered body temperature was affecting his mind.

"Do you remember…mama?" Funny how both their minds had gone to the same place and time to remember things.

"Of course I do. What about her?" Bret wondered where Bart was going with this.

"Did she love us, Bret?"

"Yes, Bart, she loved us both," Bret assured his brother.

"Then why did she leave us?"

Had Bart forgotten that it wasn't by choice that mama had 'left' them? Had his mind drifted so far back that he didn't know what happened? Or could he just not remember, as affected by the cold as he was?

"It's my fault she died," Bart said next.

If Bret had been standing up, he would've fallen over. "What?!" he exclaimed. "Why would you think that?"

It took a moment for Bart to answer. "I was sick before _she_ was. She caught it from _me_."

Bret remembered; Bart had come down with a terrible fever, but their mama had it at the same time..."No, Bart, mama used to take you with her when she went visiting her friends, you probably both caught it from the same person. A lot of people had it...some died, some didn't."

"Why not me? Why did it have to be her?"

Bret sighed. "I don't know, Bart...but I'm _glad_ that it wasn't you."

Bart didn't know what to say.

"Come on," said Bret. "No more talk of bad memories. The storm is over; things can only get better now."

"Hope so," said Bart. "This has been an awful long run of bad luck."

Bret shook his head with a humorless half-grin. "That's an understatement."

With the wind gone and the storm no longer raging, it had grown very quiet outside. Suddenly a coyote howled, and it sounded much too close. Maybe it'd been caught in the storm too?

Bret felt Bart stiffen at the sound, and he didn't blame him one bit. There was nothing stopping a coyote from coming into the cave.

The horses heard it too, and they were equally disturbed, so much that they both got to their feet and huddled in a far corner. Thank God the wind had stopped blowing; at least Bret didn't have to get up and go after the mounts. He pulled the blankets tighter around them and momentarily released the hold he had on Bart. His brother started to slide out of his arms and Bret realized that once again Bart's consciousness had been claimed by the cold. If the temperature didn't start to rise soon they'd both be dead one way or another.

The coyote howled again, sounding even closer. The horses started whinnying and pawing at the ground; they smelled the coyote and the coyote smelled them.

The howling stopped and a small shadow appeared at the door of the cave. The coyote. He took one look at the frightened horses and slunk in, paying no attention to the brothers by the fire.

Bret's heartbeat quickened and he slowly pulled back the hammer on his gun, trying to be as quiet as possible. Quickly, he raised his weapon and fired towards the mouth of the cave, not wanting to risk shooting one of the horses accidentally. The sound and startled the coyote into dashing back outside. Unfortunately, the animal wasn't the only thing that was startled; Bart's entire body jumped as he was rudely jolted back to consciousness.

"Where—what?" Bart sputtered.

"Shhh, Bart, it's all right. I shot at something."

"Shot—shot at what?" Bart asked, squirming as if trying to see.

Bret moved the blanket so Bart could peer out. "We had a visitor, but it's gone now." He didn't want to tell Bart what it was, and alarm him when he wasn't even all there in the head.

"A coyote?" Bart guessed.

So Bart wasn't currently as slow on the uptake as Bret thought. "Yeah, a coyote. It's gone."

Bart relaxed, with a sigh. A moment passed before he said, "When are we getting out of here?"

"Soon, Bart," Bret said. "Very soon." Either they'd find a way to survive until they could leave, or they would die…either way, they'd be out.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

The night passed slowly. Bret had stayed awake too much over the past couple of days and couldn't keep himself from falling asleep. He constantly woke up though, checking on Bart to make sure that he was still alive.

Bart's body was finally feeling a little warmer; especially since the outside temperature seemed to be rising overnight and there was no wind. The fire was having more of an effect, and by morning, there were finally no more blocks of ice in the canteens.

Bret woke up hearing the cry of birds. It was a confusing sound, until he opened his eyes and looked towards the mouth of the cave to see that the sky was bright blue and sunlight was streaming in. It was a sight for sore eyes; Bret felt like it had been an eternity since he'd last seen the sky.

Bart was motionless against him, and Bret shifted slightly, raising his hand to put his fingers against the pulse in his brother's neck. The beat that he found felt stronger, and Bret closed his eyes and sighed with utter relief. "Looks like we're gonna make it, Brother Bart," he whispered.

Bret had forced the horses to sleep on either side of them again overnight, and his suddenly stood up, as if the sound of his owner's voice was permission to do so.

 _I didn't say you could get up,_ he said to himself. He shifted slightly where he lay, wishing that he could get up too, but not wanting Bart to lose his body heat. His brother was still sandwiched between him and his own horse, and Bret decided that his objective for today was getting his brother fully coherent again, and in order for that to happen, his body had to warm up some more.

Bret sighed. He really wanted to stand up…his body was so cramped! _Just for a minute_ , he told himself. _To see what it looks like outside, and if we can get out of here…if I_ _can_ _get up._ His decision made, he gently shifted Bart out of his arms and covered him with both blankets, before getting to his knees and laboriously standing. 'Cramped' was definitely the word…he had to straighten up slowly. Looking at Bart's horse, he found that she was awake, but hadn't moved. "You stay right there," Bret told her. "Bart needs you."

The horse gave no reaction—not that Bret expected one.

Slowly, Bret stumbled over to the mouth of the cave and blinked against the brightness of the sun bouncing off the snow. It was definitely a lot warmer, the temperature consistent with the early spring that it really was. He smiled ear to ear and closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of the sun on his face. There was no question of their survival now; they'd made it…now if they could only get out of there and to a town before they starved to death!

Sighing with relief, he headed back to his brother, who was still asleep, lying against his horse. Bret picked up one of the canteens and poured some water into a cup, not worried about running out with all the snow that was outside. He warmed it up and drank it while watching his brother, debating with himself on whether he should wake him up or not.

Bret didn't have to keep wondering what to do, for his horse suddenly whinnied where he stood, and Bart moved his head and made a noise.

"Hey, Bart," Bret said. "You awake?"

Bart's eyebrows furrowed and he made a little noise again, before his eyes opened halfway.

Bret smiled. "Mornin'," he said.

Bart squinted at him. "Bret?" He sounded confused.

"That's me," Bret answered. "We managed to survive!"

"We did? Are you sure?" Bart asked. "I'm not dreaming?"

"Nope, you're not dreaming," came his brother's reply. "How you feeling this morning? Are you thirsty?"

Bart reached up a hand and placed it over his eyes with a wince. "I have a headache, and yes."

Bret frowned, though after seeing how close his brother had come to freezing to death, he figured he shouldn't be surprised that his body had found a way to protest nature's abuse. He poured water from a canteen into their cup and held it over the flames.

Bart shivered and pulled his arm back under the blanket. Even though the outside temperature was much higher today, it couldn't really be defined as 'warm'. "I don't suppose there's anything to eat?" he mumbled from under the semi-warm covers. He suddenly noticed that he had both of the blankets. "Aren't you cold?" 

"Not as much as you," Bret said. "The blizzard worked on you worse than it did to me."

Bart sighed, but said nothing as he shifted his position, wincing while he got himself reclined upright against his horse.

"And no, no food," Bret said, removing the cup from the fire. "But we almost had roast coyote." Now that things were looking up, Bret didn't mind talking about their visitor.

Bart made a face, not sure if he was supposed to laugh about that or not! "How long have we been here?" he asked.

"Two and a half days," said Bret, bringing the cup to him.

Bart started to pull an arm out from the blankets, but Bret shook his head. "Stay there," he said, holding the cup to his brother's lips.

Bart submitted and drank it. It was odd to drink warm water, but he knew that it would do him a world of good.

Bret made sure he drank every drop before pulling the cup away.

"How long?" Bart asked. "Before we can get out of here?" He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against his horse.

Bret sighed. "I'm not sure...the snow is deep. I think you need some rest before we even consider going back outside," he said. "Just because it's warmer today doesn't mean that it'll stay this way."

"I think I need some _food_ ," was Bart's reply.

Bret sighed. "You and me both, brother Bart. I just don't want you to end up half-frozen again."

"Can we leave if I promise I won't?" Bart asked, only half-joking. Just then Bret's horse whinnied. "We're not the only ones that need to be fed. They've got to be starving."

"I _know_ , Bart," Bret said, suddenly frustrated. "But I don't see how we can walk through so much snow to find a town; especially you, right now. We can't ride the horses through it, especially while they're starving too." He ran a hand through his hair.

Bart sighed, having no reply.

Suddenly, it appeared as if God had decided to snap his fingers and provide the Mavericks with the solution; the sound of laughter suddenly echoed through the air, and Bret and Bart both looked at each other in shock, as if doubting what they'd both heard.

"Uh, Bret," said Bart. "Did you just hear—?"

"Yes," said Bret. He scrambled to his feet and headed to the cave opening.

What Bret saw shocked him so much that he just stared: a wagon trail was slowly making its way through the snow; four big, huge, warm wagons...with food.

"What is it?" Bart pleaded. "What do you see?"

"A wagon train!" Bret exclaimed. He started waving to get their attention. "HEY!" he shouted. "OVER HERE!"

The wagon train continued to trudge along. The laughing had come from children who were playing in the snow, and they stopped and looked up when they heard the yell.

Bret left the cave and headed towards them, walking through the snow. "Hey!" he shouted again.

After that, Bart didn't hear anything else from him for a short while. His heart was pounding with anticipation; could Bret get the people to let them come along? After a few minutes, he started to doze off, his weakened body still needing rest. He never heard when Bret came back into the cave with three other men, two of which started to collect their things while one other came over to him with Bret.

"Bart?" Bret said, grabbing his brother's shoulder. "We've been rescued!"

Bart opened his eyes, a little startled to see them hovering over him. Bret's words got through and he smiled. "Another great Maverick adventure comes to an end," he mumbled, half-jokingly.

Bret chuckled.

A minute later, Bart was being helped outside with Bret on one side and the stranger on the other. The sun hurt Bart's eyes and he had to close them, but they came upon a wagon quickly and he was lifted inside. Bret climbed in after him and helped him get settled, and the wagon train stayed put while the women fed them and their horses.

Once the wagons started moving again, Bart stared at the ceiling for a minute, amazed how the two of them had been hopeless one minute and saved the next. The strangers had fed them, heaped piles of blankets on them, and filled the wagon with heated bricks. For the first time in three days, Bart wasn't freezing.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

The wagon stopping was what woke Bret up. He wasn't sure what was going on until he turned his head and spotted his brother sleeping beside him. He bolted upright, realizing that they had a mountain of blankets covering them, and he wasn't cold as long as he stayed under them. It seemed to be dark outside: the lit lamp that had been swinging from a hook providing the only light.

He was hungry again but more concerned about Bart's welfare than his own. Bret leaned over to see if his brother was awake, but found him still sleeping. He was happy to see that Bart wasn't as pale, and his breathing was steady.

Bret closed his eyes and sighed with relief. He'd actually thought that he and his brother were going to die in that cave...and if he managed to survive, it seemed likely that Bart wouldn't have. He was happy to be proven wrong.

A man suddenly poked his head into the wagon and saw Bret awake. "We're stopping for the night," he whispered. "I'll have the women bring you both some food."

"Thanks," Bret said. "I can never thank you enough...especially for my brother's sake."

The man smiled and nodded, before disappearing.

Bret leaned over his brother again, anxious that he not miss any meal offered to him. "Bart, wake up. There's food coming." His brother was slow to respond so Bret repeated himself. "Bart, wake up. Food."

Bart's eyebrows furrowed as he slowly became aware. He gave a little moan and opened his eyes, blinking blearily. "Bret?" he said. "Where are we?"

"In a wagon," Bret told him. "Remember? We were rescued."

"We were?" his brother replied.

Bret frowned, concerned at his brother's apparently still-unwell state. He reached over to touch Bart's face, finding it chilled, but no longer dangerously so. Perhaps Bart had been mentally unaware of what was going on when they'd been rescued, and simply couldn't remember it now. "Yes...a wagon train was passing by and took us on."

"Weren't we…in a cave?" Bart asked, still having trouble remembering the events of the last few days.

Bret nodded. "Yes, but we're out of it, Bart, and on our way to the nearest town."

Before Bart could say anything else, a woman opened the flap to the wagon and climbed inside with two steaming bowls. "I've brought you some stew," she said.

"Thank you," said Bret, taking them.

The woman nodded and quickly left so she wouldn't let any cold air in.

Bret put the bowls down and grabbed his brother, quickly sitting him up. "Eat this," he said, plopping the bowl into his hands.

Bart quietly obeyed. He didn't eat it all, but he ate enough to satisfy Bret, before falling back to sleep.

Bret eventually went back to sleep too, overwhelmed with relief that he could finally rest without fear of his brother dying. The night went by so fast that Bret didn't even notice; he slept like a log, and when morning came, it took someone shaking him to wake him up. "Huh?" he said.

It was the same woman as the night before. "Good morning," she said. "We'll be moving out again soon. I wanted to give you both some hot food before it's too late."

Bret stiffly sat up, accepting the bowl of hot porridge. "You're my hero," he said to her.

She smiled and put the other bowl down.

Bret looked at Bart, who was still fast asleep, his chest silently rising and falling. "Thank you," he said to the woman. "For _his_ sake, even more than my own."

The woman smiled again before leaving.

As Bret ate his porridge, he realized that it was toasty warm inside the wagon; apparently, someone had replaced the heated bricks while they'd slept. He ate his porridge quickly, before his brother's had a chance to cool off. He put his bowl down before putting a hand on Bart's arm. "Bart," he said. "Wake up."

Bart moved his head sleepily.

"Come on, Bart," Bret said. "Your food's gonna get cold."

At the word 'cold', Bart blinked his eyes open. "Huh?"

"I have some porridge for you," Bret told him.

Bart yawned and sat himself up, just as stiffly as Bret had. He looked more alive than he had in days, his face no longer as pale.

"How you feelin'?" Bret asked him, as he handed over the bowl.

Bart thought about it for a minute. "Not too bad…definitely better than I did." He took a bite, making a pleased face; the porridge was sweetened with honey. He looked at his brother. "I don't remember everything…how close did we come?"

Bret knew exactly what he was asking; how close did they come to _death_. "Too close." He didn't elaborate.

Bart asked nothing else. Maybe he would tomorrow, but not now. Today they would simply rest, enjoy the warmth, and be glad to have survived.

Minutes later, the wagon train again started to move. They traveled for four or five hours before halting to eat lunch, and for four more hours before they stopped again.

The head of the wagon train, a man who Bret only knew as 'Jim', popped his head inside after they stopped. "You'll be happy to know that we've reached a town."

Bret and Bart both broke into a grin. Bret quickly scrambled to the other end of the wagon and poked his head out, seeing the edge of town about a hundred feet away. He turned around to look at his brother. "Come on, Bart!" he said, before grabbing their saddlebags and climbing out.

It was nowhere near as cold as it had been during the blizzard, and not as much snow had fallen there.

Bart looked out the wagon before climbing out himself. He felt a little weak and his whole body was sore, from the extreme cold penetrating his muscles as well as the intense shivering that his body had endured for so many hours.

Someone unhitched their horses from the back of the wagon and brought them over.

Bret threw the saddlebags over their horses before facing Jim. "We can't thank you enough for what you did for us; you saved our lives." He took his wallet out. "How much did we cost you?"

Jim shook his head. "I can't make you pay me for keeping you alive, that wouldn't be right." He held out his hand, and Bret and Bart both shook it. They said thank you to everyone else who had helped them, and true to his usual charm, Bart kissed the hand of the lady who had brought them food

Predictably, she blushed.

Bret and Bart both mounted their horses and rode into town. They quickly checked into the hotel, took wonderfully-hot baths, had supper brought to their room, and went to bed, both of them still tired after their ordeal.

"I wish they had taken my money," Bret said to Bart, from his bed.

"Umm," Bart said, sounding half-asleep. "They did."

"What do you mean?" Bret asked.

"I left money in one of the porridge bowls so the woman who fed us would find it when she went to go get them," Bart told him.

Bret laughed. "Good thinking!"

Bart went 'umm' again. "G'night, Bret."

"G'night, Bart," Bret replied. He didn't fall asleep quickly himself, suddenly becoming aware of a noise outside; snow was melting, going *plink, plink* as it dripped. That noise, combined with the sound of his sleeping brother breathing softly, was the best thing that Bret could've ever asked to hear.

THE END


End file.
